


Shot in the Dark

by RobotSquid



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hitman, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-07-09 14:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotSquid/pseuds/RobotSquid
Summary: Ash Lynx is a master assassin who just gets his contracts done and never asks questions.  His highest paying job yet goes bad and he ends up on the other side of the gun along with Eiji, who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  If Ash had his way, he wouldn't even know Eiji's name, but all the same, he feels compelled to protect him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back on my bullshit with another AU! I've had this one floating around in my head for a few months, please enjoy!! <3

Ash tugged at the bowtie around his neck and fiddled with the sleeves on his tuxedo. It was nice to use these contracts as an excuse to dress up, but nice suits weren’t exactly the most mobile of outfits. He was dying to ditch the coat, at least.

“Comm test, can you hear me, Ash?” came Shorter’s voice through his earpiece.

“I don’t know, there’s something buzzing in my ear,” Ash replied dryly.

“Really? Let me try again.” The volume in the earpiece cranked to double what it had been, and Shorter’s voice crackled: “ _Aslan Callenreese has a dick the size of lo mein noodles—”_

“Stop!” Ash hissed, nearly grabbing the device out of his ear. “I hear you, fucking asshole!”

“Oh, there you are.” Ash could hear the shit-eating grin that Shorter definitely had on his face.

“Quit fucking around and just let me know once you know where the mark is.” Ash adjusted his coat again and strode up to the door of the music hall.

He’d been to Carnegie a few times, and he’d be lying if he said it still didn’t take his breath away every time. The interior was classic old New York, filled with brass and high ceilings. There was a symphony orchestra playing tonight, and the foyer was packed with socialites, dressed to the nines and sparkling just as brightly as the chandeliers overhead. More than a few women—and a couple men—watched Ash with interested smiles as he strode across the foyer.

He went over the details of the contract in his head as his eyes scanned the crowd. He never knew too much—he didn’t particularly care to—but just enough to do his job.

A foreign journalist had unwittingly snapped some photos that could destroy the careers and reputations of several high-powered CEOs and politicians in the city. That same journalist was supposed to be here at the performance tonight, taking pictures for his magazine back home. Ash was to locate the journalist, kill him, and take his camera back to the client.

He neither knew nor cared what the pictures showed, nor who they affected. It made his job easier that way.

Ash made his way to his private box before curtain call. He had a bottle of champagne waiting for him, as well as a tray of small hors-d’oeuvres. He took one and chewed it absently while scanning the audience below.

“Okay, I got eyes,” came Shorter’s voice through his earpiece. “Look across the way to the box right in your line of sight.”

Ash’s eyes lifted; indeed, he could see two people sitting in the box directly across from his. They were too far away for him to make out any features, but one of them was snapping pictures of the audience, clearly taking advantage of the minutes before curtain call.

“Which one is the mark?” Ash asked.

“Uhh…the guy on the right. With the beard.” Shorter paused. “I don’t know who the other one is, though.”

“An assistant, probably.” Ash took a sip of champagne. “I was told the photographer would be alone.”

“Yeah, I didn’t hear anything about an assistant either. What do you want to do? This other guy isn’t on the contract.”

“Let me just watch them for a bit. See if you can figure out who he is.”

“Gotcha. All the hard work, comin’ right up.”

The curtain lifted and the audience quieted. Ash was only halfway paying attention to the performance. He kept his attention focused on the box across from him, though he could hardly see the two men in the dim light. The one that wasn’t his mark seemed nervous. He kept tugging at his collar and looking around at the audience, barely able to stay focused on the symphony.

There could have been a hundred reasons for it. Perhaps it was his first time at Carnegie Hall. Maybe his clothes were uncomfortable. Maybe there was something else on his mind that had nothing to do with any of it. Still, Ash had a feeling…he couldn’t say what yet, but it was definitely something that set him on edge.

Impossibly, as if the other man could read his thoughts, he looked up and across the dim expanse of the massive theatre, their eyes met. The man stared into Ash’s piercing green eyes, and somehow, even from this distance, Ash could see that the man’s eyes were deep and dark, blacker than the tuxedo Ash wore. The man blinked, holding his gaze for a few seconds, and then he grinned.

It was a small, almost involuntary gesture, just a politeness that came out all on its own. Almost as quickly as it came, it was gone, and the man’s eyes drifted back towards the stage. Ash didn’t realize that he was still staring at him until Shorter’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Hello? Ash, you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ash answered hastily. “Sorry, what is it?”

“I got it. His name is E—”

“No names,” Ash snapped.

“Right, yeah. Anyway, this guy is the target’s assistant, just like we thought. Seems he came along at the last minute. He’s definitely not on the contract, but you’ll have to improvise a little now.”

“I’ll sort it out,” Ash said as the crowd applauded and intermission began. The photographer and his assistant stood up, stretched, and left the box. Ash finished his drink and did the same.

It was a bit of a walk from one end of the theatre to the other, but the target wasn’t hard to find. Ash pretended to look at the pictures on the walls as he closed in on his mark. The two of them were standing at the end of the crowded corridor, and the assistant looked distressed. They were both talking, and Ash realized belatedly that it sounded like Japanese. Ash bit back a pang of disappointment; of all the languages he’d picked up for this profession, Japanese was not one of them.

Still, he didn’t need to know the words to know that the assistant was worried, practically stressed out, while the photographer did his best to calm him.

“There’s no way he’s onto us, is there?” Ash asked, very careful to keep his lips from moving and his voice quiet. “I was told the photographer didn’t even know those pictures had anything in them.”

“Ash, this whole thing is starting to stink. You think we should just pull out now?”

“No. If they’re paranoid now they’ll be paranoid later. Let’s just get this done and get our money.”

He could practically hear Shorter’s resigned shrug. “Just be careful. I’ll meet you at the extraction point when you’re done.”

Ash’s eyes scanned the environment. A server was walking by carrying a full tray of red wine glasses. Ash sighed; he always felt a little bad doing things this way, but it was the least harmful thing he could possibly do, all things considered. He waited until the server came close to the photographer and his assistant, then Ash darted in her path without even glancing at her. As the server stepped to one side, startled, she lost her footing and bumped right into the assistant, splashing red wine everywhere.

Ash glanced back at the scene, trying to look as mildly interested as the rest of the patrons were. The server was mortified, but the assistant only smiled at her, promising that he was all right, accidents happened, please don’t worry about it. The young man had such a nice, kind smile, like he really did instantly forgive her, as if he had a world full of kindness and mercy to give.

Ash didn’t need to think about that right now. He’d been distracted enough by his eyes. Quickly, Ash shook his head and refocused as the assistant walked away to go clean himself up. The photographer followed, and Ash followed at a safe distance.

They disappeared together into the bathroom; Ash waited a moment before following them. It was obvious from a quick glance that no one else but them was there, so Ash locked the door behind him. The photographer and his assistant didn’t pay Ash any mind, preoccupied as they were with trying to clean up the wine stains.

Ash quietly drew his gun and walked up behind the photographer; he pressed the barrel against the man’s lower back and saw the cycle of emotions register in his eyes as he stared him down in the mirror.

“Don’t say anything,” Ash said softly. The assistant had frozen, his worst fear playing out in front of him.

“I won’t kill you,” Ash lied. “Just give me your camera and everything on it.”

The man’s mouth moved silently, fear quaking through his whole body. “I—” he finally choked out. “It’s not with me. It’s in the box.”

“Then let’s go.”

The photographer exchanged a glance with his assistant, who frantically asked something in Japanese.

“None of that,” Ash sighed, pushing the gun more firmly into the man’s back.

“Okay, okay! Let’s…let’s go, then.”

Ash and the photographer moved towards the door, but the assistant stayed where he was by the sink.

“Is he gonna be a problem?” Ash asked.

“Eiji,” the photographer said, mustering up a smile. He said something short and soft, and after a moment the assistant—Eiji, if Ash had heard right—nodded tightly and followed them both.

Ash led the two men back to their box as if nothing at all were out of place, but he could feel them radiating panic. It was a wonder that the whole place didn’t notice. They got back to the box just moments before the intermission was over. Ash settled in next to the photographer, keeping the muzzle of his gun pressed into the man’s side.

“What do you want?” the photographer hissed quietly as the orchestra started up again.

“Hush,” Ash replied. “It’s rude to talk during the performance.”

The assistant—Eiji was definitely his name, no matter how much Ash tried to forget that he’d heard it—muttered something that sounded rude. Ash shot him a look, and Eiji jumped and shrank back.

For several uneasy minutes, the three of them sat there, as if they were only sharing a pleasant night at the theatre together. Despite appearances, Ash never felt the photographer’s muscles relax, nor did Eiji stop fidgeting and glancing around. Ash was actually starting to regret taking this contract at all. The pay had made it impossible to say no, but even the prospect of the money was losing its appeal quickly.

Ash shut his eyes and breathed out. He couldn’t think like that. He needed the money. He needed this job, because if he delivered on it, it could potentially be his last one.

He opened his eyes again just in time to see a red dot trained directly on the photographer’s forehead.

Adrenaline surged through him and time slowed to a crawl. Ash lifted his eyes to the box where he’d been sitting earlier. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. There, in his seat, was a figure with a sniper rifle, the barrel unmistakably pointed at them.

Ash couldn’t say why he reacted the way he did next. In a way, he blamed his involuntary reflexes, because he certainly hadn’t made any sort of conscious decision in the moment. He reached over to the assistant—to Eiji—and grabbed his shoulder, roughly yanking him down to the box floor. The bullet rang out, silent and buried underneath the swell of the orchestra, but it missed the photographer’s head and sank into the man’s shoulder instead.

Later, Ash would realize that he should have done something to keep Eiji from panicking. Covered his mouth at least, or something. But he’d done nothing, so there was nothing to keep Eiji’s scream from filling the music hall and driving out all semblance of safety and normalcy in the place.

The orchestra abruptly stopped playing, people began to murmur and move, and then someone else in the crowd screamed. Maybe they’d seen the barrel of the sniper, or thought they had. But the seeds of panic had been planted and were blossoming into pandemonium. The hall erupted with noise and people scrambled to evacuate.

Ash cursed loudly. The photographer still lay on the floor, blood spilling out of the bullet wound in his shoulder. Eiji was on top of him, screaming, “Ibe-san!! Ibe-san!!” From what Ash could tell, the wound didn’t look serious, but the man had passed out from shock or pain or both.

Ash gripped Eiji’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Come on!” he yelled.

_What am I doing? Leave him! The hell is wrong with me?_

“Ash!” came Shorter’s voice through the earpiece. “What’s happening?”

“Bring the car around now!” Ash replied, dragging Eiji out into the hallway with him. They blended right into the panicked stream of people leaving the building. Ash shoved his gun back into place to avoid unwanted attention.

Eiji, to his credit, had stopped resisting and was keeping up with Ash as they fled. Ash fought back the urge to ditch him and just wash his hands of the whole mess, but he couldn’t. Eiji knew his face now. Besides, just because Eiji hadn’t been his target didn’t mean that Ash had to leave him in a dangerous situation. Ash would figure it out later; all he knew now was that he didn’t have it in him to leave Eiji behind.

They ran out to the street and to a nearby alley. At the other end, Shorter’s van was parked with its back doors thrown wide open. Ash shoved Eiji in front of him and dove into the backseat, pushing Eiji inside in as he went. Shorter was already driving as Ash threw the doors shut.

Eiji broke away from Ash’s grip and pressed himself up against the back wall of the van.

“What—who the fuck is that?” Shorter asked, glancing in the rear view mirror.

Ash tore off his bowtie and shrugged out of his tuxedo coat. He tried to collect his thoughts as he pulled the earpiece out.

“Hey kid,” Shorter said again, raising his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Shut up,” Ash snapped. “He doesn’t speak English.”

“I do speak English.”

Ash’s head whipped around. Eiji’s voice sounded…different, somehow, when Ash could understand him. From the shadows of the van’s wide backseat, Eiji’s dark eyes stared out at him. Ash could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the slight tensing of his muscles. There was no question that he was scared to death, but even so, he was holding himself together as well as he could.

“…Oh,” was all Ash could think of to say, feeling embarrassed for no reason he could discern. “Well, uh…just…”

“I think you got this all backwards, Ash,” Shorter said. “You were supposed to go in there and kill a guy, not bring a different one out with you.” He laughed uproariously as he pulled into traffic.

“We have a problem, Shorter,” Ash said as he climbed into the passenger seat.

“No shit.”

Ash ignored that. “Someone else tried to kill our target.”

Shorter raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yeah. Someone with way less finesse than me, too. I don’t know who’s able to get a sniper rifle into Carnegie Hall, but someone did.”

“Hmm. Popular guy to have two hits on him.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“No kidding. Let’s just lay low for the night and I’ll call my guy in the morning.”

They pulled up to a red light and the sound of police sirens sounded in the distance. Ash rested his head back on the headrest just in time to hear the van door slide open.

It took a full two seconds for them both to realize what had happened. “Fuck!” Ash yelled, throwing open his door. “Hey!”

Eiji was running full speed down the sidewalk. Ash was surprised how fast he was, and he cursed inwardly at the impractical shoes he was wearing. He inhaled deeply, pushing himself into a full sprint to close the distance. He reached out, grabbing Eiji’s shoulder and crashing into him against a nearby brick wall.

“ _Help!_ ” Eiji shouted at the top of his lungs. Ash cursed and yanked him into the alleyway, clapping his hand over Eiji’s mouth.

“Will you shut up?” Ash hissed, glancing over his shoulder for any sign of cops.

Eiji raised his fists and brought them down hard on Ash’s shoulders. He thrashed around, kicking and pushing until Ash shoved back, pressing his whole body into Eiji’s and pinning him against the wall.

“I don’t want to shoot you,” Ash said lowly into Eiji’s ear. “But you’re being very difficult right now.”

Eiji tried to hit him again, and Ash grabbed his wrist. “ _Look_ ,” Ash said. “I know how this looks. I don’t know what’s going on either, but I got shot at too back there. If you leave me now, they’ll find you too. You stay with me, you won’t die.”

Eiji scowled, and Ash tentatively moved his hand from his mouth. “You still tried,” Eiji said. “You went there to kill Ibe-san and me.”

“Not you.” Ash wasn’t sure why it was important Eiji know that. “I didn’t go there to kill you.”

Eiji paused for a moment, confusion briefly blinking across his eyes. “Still…there’s no way I can trust you.”

“I already saved your life once,” Ash told him.

Eiji was quiet again. “You did,” he conceded, but just barely.

“I don’t know who shot Ib—the photographer. But you’re not safe out here on your own right now.”

“I can go to the police,” Eiji protested. “I don’t need you.”

Ash sighed; he was running out of reasons to care about keeping this kid with him. Still, something was nagging at him, like there was some answer he needed….

He only barely saw the glint in time. Ash whipped his head around and saw the figure stalking towards them from the other end of the alley. The streetlamp reflected a flash of light off the barrel of a gun, peeking out from beneath a dark overcoat.

Ash threw Eiji behind him and grabbed his own gun. He fired one shot towards the dark figure, but he went wide and only hit the brick wall beside him.

“Go!!” Ash shouted at Eiji. He half expected that Eiji was gone already; the fact that he didn’t immediately hear the sound of fading, running footsteps made no sense.

The mystery gunman raised his own pistol and was about to shoot. As Ash heard the gunshot go off, he found himself suddenly face down on the asphalt. Safe. Something was around his legs.

Before Ash could try to understand any of this, he felt a warm hand around his own, lifting his arm and pointing the gun up at their assailant. Ash felt fingers pushing his own away from the trigger, and then another gunshot rang out, downing the man with a well-placed shot to the abdomen.

Ash blinked. He stared at the hand encasing his own, followed it down the arm, and all the way up to Eiji’s face. Eiji, lying beside him in the street, breathing heavily and holding the smoking gun along with him.

Eiji’s dark eyes turned to meet Ash’s, and for an instant they stared at each other as if seeing a completely new person for the first time. Eiji looked…apologetic, and when he finally looked away, Ash could almost believe he looked ashamed.

It was only a momentary thought, one that was soon overridden by the sudden, gaping loss of the warmth of Eiji’s hand.

“Sorry,” Eiji whispered as he got to his feet. Ash stood up, feeling light, like he was floating. Eiji wouldn’t look at him now. “He was going to kill you.”

“How’d you…?” Ash tried to say, but the sound of a car driving up cut through whatever he was going to say.

“You guys all right?” came Shorter’s voice from the road.

“Yeah,” Ash called back. He stowed his gun away. “We’re fine.”

He glanced at Eiji and somehow he knew that Eiji wasn’t going to fight him anymore. They both got back into the van, and Shorter drove off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, everyone! Writing with a full time job is hard, you'd think I'd have it figured out by now and yet.....
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! <3

The safehouse was about a half hour’s drive. A long, silent, uncomfortable half hour’s drive. Ash itched to turn on the radio to hear if there was any news about what had happened at Carnegie Hall, but at the same time, he hoped it had all been a bad dream. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Eiji, who was huddled up in the back of the van, looking absolutely miserable.

Not a single part of any of this made any sense. Ash was certain now that the entire contract had been a setup. But for what? Could the sniper have actually been trying to take Ash out instead?

Before his thoughts could go much further, Shorter parallel parked the van with expert precision in front of the safehouse apartment. Shorter shut off the van and let out a huge yawn.

“I’m beat,” he said.

“ _You?_ ” Ash replied, narrowing his eyes. “How many times did _you_ get shot at tonight?”

Shorter laughed. “You act like I just sit back and let you do all the work.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Without me, you would have been dead four or five missions ago. So a little ‘thank you for always coming through in the clutch, Shorter’ every now and then would be welcome.”

Ash rolled his eyes, unbuckled his seatbelt, and stepped out of the car. He pulled open the back door of the van and extended his hand to Eiji. “Come on,” he said. “We’re home.”

Eiji stared at his hand. Shorter came around to the open door and grinned at Eiji. “Come on, kid. I’ll make us some dinner.”

Eiji scowled, suddenly indignant. “I’m not a kid,” he huffed. “I bet you I’m older than he is.”

“We can compare ages and dick sizes when we’re inside,” Ash said, glancing around at the nearby windows. He’d been feeling jumpy for a while now, and it wasn’t getting any better out here.

Eiji went bright red. “I…I don’t want—”

Fed up, Ash reached in and grabbed Eiji by the arm and yanked him out. Eiji was silent as the three of them went inside. The safehouse was on the third floor. Ash couldn’t remember the last time they’d used this one, and he prayed that Shorter had thought to at least stock the fridge.

_He’s right. I really would be dead without him._

The interior of the apartment was sparse. A couch, a table, one bed in the back, and an old, shitty TV. Shorter headed straight for the kitchen and threw open the fridge.

“I’m starving,” he announced. “I’m gonna make dinner.”

Ash threw his tuxedo coat over the back of the couch and plopped down into it. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, head spinning. Nearly a full minute passed with nothing but the sound of his own breathing and Shorter moving around in the kitchen. Ash looked over to where the photographer’s assistant was standing near the door, paralyzed where they’d left him.

“Will you come sit down?” Ash said. “You’re making me anxious over there.”

Eiji blushed vibrantly and stared down at his fidgeting hands. For an instant, Ash felt a twinge in his chest that he didn’t recognize or understand.

“Um…” Eiji murmured lowly, “wh-what did you mean…when you said….” His voice trailed off and he backed up against the door.

“Huh?” Ash asked, raising an eyebrow. “Speak up.”

Eiji mumbled again, swallowed tightly, and asked, “I can…I can give you money instead.”

“Instead of what?” Ash was beginning to lose his patience.

“Instead of…sleeping with you,” Eiji said miserably.

Ash nearly fell off the couch as shock gripped his throat. In the kitchen, Shorter stopped what he was doing and poked his head out.

“I…excuse me, _what_?” Ash sputtered, scrambling to his feet. “Who said anything about that!?”

Eiji backed up towards the corner of the room. “But…didn’t you say…you wanted me to show you…?”

Shorter burst out laughing, and Ash and Eiji both swung their heads around to stare at him.

“Oh my God,” Shorter choked out in between laughs, “no, kid, no, that’s not…holy _shit_ …!”

“What the hell is going on?” Ash demanded.

Shorter doubled over and managed to say, “When you said—outside, by the car—when you said ‘we can compare dick sizes when we’re inside’—oh my God, that’s not what he meant!”

Ash wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment. He turned to Eiji, who looked like he was feeling exactly the same way. “I…God, _no_!” Ash shouted, holding up his hands. “No! Shit!”

Eiji’s face went even redder and he turned away from them both. “Oh…” he said softly. “I’m sorry, I…I misunderstood.”

Ash stalked over to the kitchen and punched Shorter on the arm. “Quit laughing at him!” he hissed.

“I’m sorry,” Shorter said, catching his breath. “I’m sorry, it’s just…what’s your name again, kid?”

“It’s Eiji,” he and Ash both replied at the same time.

“Yeah, Eiji,” said Shorter, flashing an unknowable expression at Ash. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at _you_. Ash would never in a million years say anything like that to somebody, that’s why I was laughing. Don’t be upset. Come on, I’m making some food, everything will be fine.”

Ash glanced over at Eiji, who seemed to deflate under his gaze. Eiji looked over to Shorter, and the tiniest smile flickered across on his lips. “Okay…” he said. “All right.”

Ash felt another pang in his chest, but he quickly ignored it before he could think about it too hard. He dragged a third chair over to the table and sat down, refusing to look Eiji in the eye. They ate in silence. Shorter’s go-to dinner after a stressful night was omelets, with as much cheese as he could throw in them. He always made his own twice as big as Ash’s; Ash was certain Shorter could eat a dozen eggs in one sitting if he felt like it.

Ash’s mind raced with everything he wanted to ask Eiji, but he didn’t know where to even start. The ease with which Eiji had held the gun and shot their attacker earlier that night wasn’t natural. He’d known exactly what he was doing. Eiji might play up that scared foreigner persona, but there was something else there. Something Ash wasn’t prepared for.

“Thank you for the food,” Eiji said softly as the meal wound down.

“Glad you liked it!” Shorter said with a wide smile. “It’s nice to feel appreciated every once in a while, you know?”

Eiji grinned back, and Ash detected the hint of pink on the boy’s cheeks. Ash narrowed his eyes and got to his feet.

“I’m gonna go check the news,” Ash said, stalking off to the couch and clicking on the old television. He could feel the two of them watching him from behind, but he shrugged it off like their attention was an errant fly.

He tried to ignore them as they moved around just outside his peripheral vision. Not that he was paying attention, but it sounded like Eiji had offered to do the dishes, and Shorter was playing up his gratitude in an effort to put Eiji more at ease. Ash even heard Eiji laugh, and he turned the volume up higher on the television. After that, the others didn’t make much more noise.

There was finally a news report about Carnegie Hall. It was a developing story, and all the details were wrong. He checked multiple stations. They all reported injuries, though the number of victims was never consistent. One reporter said there had been a fatality, and Ash clicked away from that one before Eiji could hear. Ash never trusted the news to confirm his kills anyway. The only way he knew the job was done is if he saw it happen himself. His own eyes were the only thing he could trust in this business.

Ultimately, the news told him nothing he didn’t already know. He’d have to wait until morning to call in to his contacts and get some real answers. 

“I made the bed up for you,” Shorter said suddenly. Ash turned around to see Eiji follow Shorter into the side room where Shorter slept when they were here. A flare of something deep and powerful burst forth in Ash, and he leapt to his feet.

Then, he stopped. He took a breath. No, everything was fine. He needed to just…calm down. Relax.

He stood there, unmoving, in the center of the room until Shorter came back out of the room. He was yawning, rubbing the back of his neck with one giant hand, muscles bulging in his bicep.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ash said lowly.

“Hmm?” Shorter raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I said, what do you think you’re doing?” Ash took a step towards him. “He’s not our friend.”

Shorter sighed and let his arm fall to the side. “I’m just trying to make sure he’s not going to freak out.”

“You’re going to give him the wrong idea.”

“Look.” Shorter lowered his voice. Anyone else would think that he was about to be condescending, that he was softening his tone as for a child, but Ash knew better. It was the voice Shorter used when he really needed to say something serious. When he needed Ash, in particular, to _really_ listen.

“It’s not like that,” Shorter said evenly. “He doesn’t think that and I haven’t made him think it. He just wants to get through this night as much as we do.”

Ash gripped his hands into fists. “How do we know he won’t try to run?”

“I locked the windows.” Shorter chuckled. “He’s not stupid, I can tell that much. I was planning to stay up and keep an eye on him, actually.”

Ash breathed out, and to his shame the exhale was shuddering. “Fine,” he conceded. “That’s…that’ll be okay for now.”

Shorter sighed again, reached out, and pulled Ash into a hug. Ash stiffened, then relaxed as Shorter’s heartbeat coaxed his own to match it, steadily stuttering into something even, like a long, slow inhale. He didn’t put his arms around Shorter in return, but just allowed himself—just this once, or at least he always told himself so—to be held. Just for a moment. Just to exist in a small, fleeting place that only ever formed just for him. He closed his eyes and breathed. Shorter was warm, and the scent of his heat was like a perfume that made him want to—allow himself to—just rest.

When Ash felt calm again, he pulled away. Shorter ruffled his hair, and Ash swatted his hand away.

“Go get some rest,” Shorter said. “I’ll keep watch.”

Ash was too tired to argue for once. He nodded and went off to his room, falling into bed without taking off his suit.

Despite the excitement and uncertainty of the night, Ash actually slept well. He woke up blearily, regretting his decision to sleep without changing. He pulled off the hopelessly wrinkled shirt and threw it in a corner, then stalked out into the bathroom. It was only when he returned, washed and wearing fresh clothes that he noticed Shorter and Eiji were both awake and sitting on the couch, watching TV.

Ash blinked at them both. Had they been there when he walked by earlier?

Shorter raised his coffee cup at him. “Morning, honey,” he said with a grin. “I made coffee.”

Ash turned his gaze on Eiji, who was pointedly avoiding him. Shorter had his arm slung over the back of the couch behind Eiji’s head. Again, that flare of something rose up in Ash’s chest. He inhaled sharply through his nose and went to the kitchen without a word. He made himself a cup of strong, black coffee, came back into the living room, and plopped himself down into a chair. He clicked the television off and stared Eiji in the face.

Ash took a long, slow sip. “Who are you?” he asked.

Eiji blinked, flicking his eyes up and away again. “Um…I-I told you my name last night….”

“Who are you _really_ , smartass?” Ash barked.

“Just an assistant. Really. I work for the same magazine as Ibe-san….” At the mention of the photographer, a tightness gripped his words.

“Yeah?” Ash raised his eyebrows. “They teach you how to shoot a gun at those magazines? Or did that not make it onto your resume?”

Shorter was eerily quiet, observing them both without a word.

“Look, I…I know what you’re thinking,” Eiji said, braving another look into Ash’s eyes. “But I’m not going to cause trouble. I just want to go home. I won’t tell anybody anything.”

“I can’t let you go just yet.” Ash drained the rest of his coffee. “I didn’t complete the contract, and I need to get paid.” He set the cup down and leaned forward. “Where are the pictures?”

Eiji opened his mouth, and Ash immediately interrupted: “And if you say ‘what pictures’ I know a lot of ways to jog your memory real quick.”

Eiji’s mouth snapped shut and he seemed to shrink back into the couch. “I, um…I don’t know, not exactly. I don’t even know if they’re pictures.”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Ibe-san put something in the hotel safe before we left when he thought I wasn’t looking. I didn’t really see it, but…I guess it could have been the size of a roll of film.”

“Do you know the combination?”

Eiji shook his head.

“Can you guess?”

Eiji winced. “Maybe? I don’t…I don’t really know.”

Ash looked to Shorter. “How hard is it to break open one of those shitty safes?”

“It’s like…so easy it’s a joke,” Shorter replied with a laugh.

“Where were you two staying?”

“At the…the Carnegie Hotel.”

Ash sighed and shut his eyes. Of course it would have to be so close. He’d been hoping to avoid going back to that part of town for a while.

“That’s a fancy place,” Shorter said. “That magazine must be pretty nice to expense that for you.”

“…Yeah,” Eiji replied. His brief second of hesitation wasn’t lost on Ash, and he bet that Shorter had detected it too.

“You don’t work for a fucking magazine,” Ash said. It wasn’t a question.

“I—no, I mean yes I do!” said Eiji with indignation. It was pointless; he’d given it away so clearly.

Ash scooted to the edge of the chair and leaned even closer toward him. He narrowed his eyes, staring Eiji down and feeling only mildly guilty at the way he was making him squirm. “Let me ask you again,” Ash said, lowering his voice and drawing out each word. “Who are you?”

“Nobody,” Eiji whispered. “Please. I’m really not anybody.”

“So my hunch that the other assassin was actually there for you doesn’t concern you at all?”

Eiji barely flinched at the suggestion, and Ash suddenly felt very, very tired.

“Well,” said Shorter after a moment of silence. “This is all fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter just wants everyone to get along and eat eggs :(((
> 
> Let me know what you thought with a comment and feel free to visit me at my twitter @frozencalamari!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Come visit me at my twitter @frozencalamari


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